


The Name Game

by DizzyDrea



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-17
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-03 19:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Hank and Wu suffer through the world's most boring stakeout, and learn a little something about each other in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Name Game

**Author's Note:**

> So, I blame this entirely on Russell Hornsby and Reggie Lee. They did some media interviews a couple of weeks ago, and a comment that RL made is what sparked this. You can read the article from Blastr [here](http://blastr.com/2012/04/why-the-cops-of-grimm-are.php). 
> 
> Disclaimer: Grimm is the property of NBC, Universal Television, GK Productions, Hazy Mills Productions, Open 4 Business Productions LLC and a lot of other people who aren’t me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

"So," Sergeant Wu said.

The word hung there in the confined space of Hank Griffin's car. No conversation started this way ended well, but they were in hour three of a late-night stakeout, and they'd run through the standard stakeout topics after just an hour. Knowing it was a bad idea but sick to death of the dead silence in the car, he bit.

"So."

Wu looked over at him, and Hank got the distinct impression that he was being sized up—whether it was for Wu's next meal or something else, he wasn't sure. He shifted uncomfortably, wishing not for the first time that his partner—Nick Burkhardt—hadn't taken the weekend off to take Juliette on a romantic getaway. They never had problems stuck in a car for hours on a stakeout. There was conversation, true, but there was just as likely to be long silences. The difference was they weren't uncomfortable. Still…

"So, I'm guessing Hank is short for Henry."

Hank cringed. It wasn't that he hated his name; more like he got where that kid named Sue was coming from. "Yeah, not really."

"No?" Wu said, surprised. "Huh."

Silence fell once again, and Hank thought he might just have dodged a bullet. Then Wu spoke up again, killing that faint hope.

"So, what's it short for?"

"It isn't," Hank said."It's just Hank."

"Come on," Wu said, smiling. "It's gotta be short for something. Hank Aaron's name was short for Henry." Hank cringed again, causing Wu's eyebrows to race each other for his hairline. "Really?"

Hank sighed, squeezing his eyes shut for a brief moment before facing Wu. "Yeah. Really."

He paused, hoping Wu would just let it go. No such luck, though. Wu was still staring at him, an expectant smile on his face. Seeing no help for it but to come clean, he explained. "My dad's a big baseball fan. He wanted to name me Jackie, but Mom put her foot down. She said Jackie sounded too girlie, and she wasn't having that. So, they settled on Hank Aaron Griffin."

Wu stared at him for a beat, then two. Finally, he blinked, a slow smile spreading over his face as he chuckled. He reached over the console and patted Hank on the shoulder, which made him feel worse somehow, not better.

"We all have our crosses to bear, man," he said, still chuckling.

"Oh?" Hank said, interested now. He'd never once, in all the years they'd worked together, heard anyone refer to Wu as anything other than Wu, or Sergeant—or Sarg, if they were feeling particularly brave. As far as he knew, that was Wu's first name. It hadn't occurred to him to ask, something he was a bit ashamed to admit. Still, this could be interesting. "So, what's your first name?"

"Liang," Wu said. He'd returned his attention to the business they were supposed to be watching, but he could see the discomfort peeking around the edges of Wu's infamous control.

"Not a bad name," Hank observed. "What's it mean?"

"It means fine or good."

"I'm still not seeing a problem." Hank thought about it for a beat. He'd grown up with a lot of Chinese emigrants—Oregon wasn't the melting pot that California had become, but there'd still been a few in his classes growing up—and one thing he'd noticed was that they all seemed to have both a Chinese name and an American one. "So, what's your American name? Lots of Chinese have them."

Wu stiffened noticeably, and Hank realized he might be on to something. He waited a few more beats, but obviously Wu wasn't interested in giving up that little tidbit. But Hank hadn't made detective on his good looks alone. 

"Come on, I told you," he said, playing to Wu's sense of fair play. "Or is it too embarrassing. Kinda girly, maybe? I guess I could—"

"It's Lou."

Hank blinked for a few seconds, trying to process that. Lou. It wasn't that bad. Kinda old-school, but then again, so was Hank. Lou Wu.

And then he got it. He tried not to laugh, tried valiantly. The car was small, and he didn't really want to find out just how good Wu—who still outranked him—was at hand-to-hand in confined spaces. But it was no good. Lou Wu pinged around inside his head, getting funnier the more it rolled around in there. Finally, he couldn't hold it in anymore. He gripped the steering wheel, laughing so hard there were tears running down his cheeks.

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead and laugh," Wu said, frowning, though it wasn't as fierce as Hank might have expected.

"Why in God's name did your parents name you Lou?" Hank gasped out when he'd finally regained some semblance of control.

"My dad liked _Mary Tyler Moore_ ," he said. There was a nostalgic fondness in the words that sober Hank up a bit. "He really liked Ed Asner. Tough guy with a heart of gold. So, when he was trying to come up with American names for us, he picked Lou for me."

"I guess it never occurred to him that might be a problem?" Hank asked.

Wu sighed. "No. His English wasn't too good, so he thought it sounded fine. I insisted on going by Liang until high school. I was on the wrestling team, and my coach used to call everyone by their last names, so the rest of us just copied him. I've been Wu ever since."

Hank nodded. "Makes sense." He paused, then offered an olive branch. "I promise I won't tell anybody."

"You'd better not," Wu said, shaking his head. "Otherwise, a baseball a day is going to arrive on your desk. You'll be answering questions about it until you retire."

Hank held up his hands. "No problem, man. I get you loud and clear."

Silence fell once more, only this time it was the more comfortable variety, like he'd had with Nick on so many stakeouts before. It was amazing how often personal bonds were forged in moments like these with just the sharing of embarrassing personal facts. He felt like he knew Wu so much better, and all they'd really talked about were their first names. Maybe having the same parental issues—mothers and fathers that didn’t have a clue how their favorite baby names would eventually set their children up for teasing—could do what years on the force hadn't.

"So, Lou, whose turn is it to buy coffee?"

Wu turned, giving Hank such a withering glare that he was afraid his clothes were going to spontaneously combust right there in the car.

"Guess it's my turn," Hank said. He smiled, shaking his head as he unlatched his door and pushed it open. "Black, two sugars, right?"

"Yeah," Wu said, eyebrow lifting in surprise that Hank had even remembered that little detail.

"I'll be right back," Hank said. He shut the car door, then leaned in through the open window. "If the suspect shows up, just give him your name. He might collapse into hysterics and we won't need to chase his ass down."

"Go, before I cuff you to the bumper," Wu said, waving him off with a smile, which took some of the sting out of the words.

"No can do, my man," Hank said. He circled around the car, then leaned down to Wu's open window. "These bumpers are unibody. Now, the steering wheel might work."

"Screw the steering wheel," Wu said, smirk firmly in place. "I'll tie you to the roof of the car and drive the suspect back to the precinct myself."

Hank didn't know if he was serious and he didn't want to find out. "Right."

He ambled off, headed for the little coffee shop around the corner. If nothing else, he'd successfully livened up the world's most boring stakeout. And he'd gotten to know his Sergeant a little better. All in all, he'd consider the night a success. Now, if the suspect would just wait until they'd finished their coffee to show up, it'd be perfect. 

Fat chance of that, but a guy could dream.

~Finis


End file.
